


Starship Shanties of the GAR

by Darth_Mulcibre



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bo-Katan is a complex and nuanced character and I will not be accepting contradicting opinions, Clones Can Sing, Hey guys we got a new Jedi let's sing aggressively at her till she likes us, Humanize Jocasta Nu or you're a fascist, Let's all have big feelings and listen to The Longest Johns, Let's give Obi-Wan a hug, Let's troll Maul, No like clones can SING, Oh shit they really did kill all the Jedi whoops, Remember Colt? So do I, Rip Adi Gallia, Rip Saesee Tiin's opportunity to be a real person, Sea Shanties, Sea shanties are effing awesome, Seriously let's troll Maul a lot, Shaak Ti is everyone's mom and I love it, Turns out every clone sounds like David Coffin and Stan Rogers had a lovechild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28004898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Mulcibre/pseuds/Darth_Mulcibre
Summary: Across time, sailors and adventurers of the sea have had their sea shanties.In a galaxy far, far away, the Vod'e were cloned with an excellent set of pipes.A collection of standalone scenes, featuring the star shanties sung by the Grand Army of the Republic.
Comments: 67
Kudos: 89





	1. Roll the Galaxy Along

**Author's Note:**

> All shanties referenced in this fic can be found on Spotify and probably other mediums! I recommend the playlist "Literally Sea Shanties" by user imightbetaylor. Enjoy, and if you're having trouble finding the originals, please reach out!

**For this chapter, our song is "Roll the Old Chariot Along", by David Coffin! I'd recommend you turn up the volume and listen to the whole original first, to get a feel for it, then come back here and give this version a read. Thanks for coming!**

**\-----**

The _Resolute_ had been in deep space for hours. The ship had only just left Coruscant after a lovely week of respite for the men. The ship had been swept, all the regular patrols had gone on as expected, and there hadn’t been reports of a single complication so far. The ship was in a Hyperspace tunnel, for Force’s sake. There was simply no way that any new problem could come along until, at least, they came out of it.

And yet, Anakin Skywalker was completely unsurprised to be running, full-clip, toward the source of some unknown noise that he could only describe as _howling_. And there wasn’t just one howler, either.

Ahsoka was by his side, and unlike him, she kept her saber unlit in her hand. “It sounds like they’re dying!” she said, panic clear on her face. “Could the hull have been breached?”

“If it was, we’d know for sure,” Anakin said. They turned the corner, toward one of the side hangars where the starfighter fleet was supposed to be getting inspected. The howling grew louder.

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know. Stay behind me.”

The blast doors were closed, the ones that led into the hangar. Anakin glared at the clones guarding it. “The kark is going on in there?”

“You’re welcome to go in, General. The boys are just working on the ships.”

All of a sudden, the howling went silent. Ahsoka frowned. She keyed in the code for the blast doors.

They slid open, and relief and confusion bubbled together.

The starfighters were out and being worked on, as expected. They littered the hangars, and two or three men worked on each one. Around the walls, other troopers moved ammunition and supplies as the newest Shinies drilled their formations.

The only thing out of place was Rex. Anakin’s Captain stood in the center of the hangar, faced away from them, clearly doing _something_ , with the chin of his helmet gripped tight in his hand.

“Oh, we’d be alright if the droids would scrap ‘emselves!”

Anakin gaped. The voice that cried it out was beautiful, deep, gravelly—it was a clone, unmistakably. And from the way he was moving, it had to be Rex.

And then his jaw dropped further, as a hundred of that same voice burst forth from around the hangar.

“We’d be alright if the droids would scrap ‘emselves!

“We’d be alright if the droids would scrap ‘emselves!

“And we’ll all come back alive!”

Ahsoka looked up at him, absolutely giddy.

Rex lifted his foot, and all the men did it together with him.

“And we’ll roll!” _STAMP!_ “The whole!” _STAMP!_ “Galax-“ _STAMP!_ “Along!” _STAMP!_

“We’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“We’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“And we’ll all come back alive!”

The stamps faded, as every trooper’s voice cut off at the same time. Anakin’s and Ahsoka’s stares were plastered back into their faces, now, by the sheer volume and force of the song.

Rex turned, and although they saw his face twist for the briefest moment with sudden embarrassment, he overcame it incredibly quickly. As he opened his mouth again, he snapped his heels together and flipped a perfect salute. Somehow, when he sung, he sounded just a fraction more Mando.

“Oh, we’d be alright if we stay up in the stars!”

And on cue, the men’s voices burst forth.

“We’d be alright if we stay up in the stars!”

“We’d be alright if we stay up in the stars!”

“And we’ll all come back alive!”

Rex lifted his foot, and both of his hands, and he put even more vigor into his voice. The stomping began again.

“And we’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

Some of the clones began to turn.

Anakin couldn’t help but notice that more of them had begun to stream in from the doors, and fill out a perimeter around the hangar.

“We’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“We’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“And we’ll all come back alive!”

Anakin felt something on his side. He looked down, and Ahsoka was pressed into him, clutching at his glove with both hands. In the Force, she buzzed with even more enthusiasm than he’d ever felt from her.

Now, Rex was getting into it, and he swung his arm out toward his men.

“Well, a good night to sleep wouldn’t do us any harm!”

And all of them:

“Well, a good night to sleep wouldn’t do us any harm!”

“Well, a good night to sleep wouldn’t do us any harm!”

“And we’ll all wake up alive!”

Anakin felt Ahsoka lift her foot, and this time, she stomped along with them. She’d picked up enough of the words to sing along, and softly, she joined the contingent of men who somehow all knew that the sustained _We’ll rooooooooooll!_ was their duty.

“And we’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“We’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“We’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“And we’ll all come back alive!”

With flair that would only have been more pronounced if he’d had a cape, Rex swept around, and he extended an open hand toward Anakin.

“Well, a drop of Dooku’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm!”

All the clones followed his gaze, and this time, they seemed to sing directly at Anakin, as if they meant to fill him with the same fire they all shared.

“Well, a drop of Dooku’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm!”

“Well, a drop of Dooku’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm!”

“And we’ll all come out alive!”

Anakin forgot himself, and now, he stamped along with them. Ahsoka kept her part, but Anakin wanted every word, and though his voice was far worse than that of any clone, the men were absolutely ecstatic to see him join.

“And we’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“We’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

Rex was losing himself into the song, now, his eyes closed, his body moving along with the troops’ heavy rhythm. As he sang, his teeth were bared, and he seemed to almost roar it.

“We’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“And we’ll all come back alive!”

Rex’s head snapped up, and he took his solo line with the utmost focus.

“Well, a life on Alderaan wouldn’t do us any harm!”

The troops whooped at that one, and joined in.

“Well, a life on Alderaan wouldn’t do us any harm!”

“Well, a life on Alderaan wouldn’t do us any harm!”

“And we’d all go home alive!”

Anakin felt the clones start to crescendo in the Force, and it was confirmed in all of them. Now, they _howled_ , well and truly, heads thrown back. There wasn’t a single spot left along the wall, anymore, and clones bunched up near the doors. Half the Legion had to be inside the hangar, and somehow Rex’s voice still crested above them all.

“And we’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“We’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“We’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“And we’ll all come back alive!”

The clones reached out for each other, and all their arms intertwined around each other’s shoulders. Anakin hugged Ahsoka close, and she did the same, and with the foot furthest away from each other, they both still kept the stomp. The hangar floor trembled. Anakin hadn’t thought men could do that; now, he knew different.

“And we’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“We’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“We’ll roll the whole Galaxy along!”

“And we’ll all come back alive!”

They all held the last note until they ran out of breath. And then not a moment after, the hangar was alight with cheers and war cries. Anakin could pick out a few men with tears in their eyes, Rex among them.

Anakin went to him, and they clasped hands. Then, before Rex could straigten up, Anakin pulled him into a long embrace.

After a while, they stepped back, and Rex wiped his face. He smelled of sweat, and in the Force, he hummed with elation.

“Rex,” Anakin said, and he spoke slowly so that he could keep looking around and taking in the men around him. He’d long since lost Ahsoka to the crowd. “That was incredible. You all know that song?”

“It’s a star-shanty,” Rex said, and he grinned sheepishly. “We clones have made a couple up, since the war began.”

“How come I’ve never heard anything like that?”

“We don’t get the chance much, anymore, not since the first few weeks of the war. And when we do…well, I don’t know. There usually aren’t this many of us. But I was walking through, here, and a few of the Shinies were singing another one, and…I don’t know. Wanted to make them feel welcome.”

“And that led to this?”

Rex grinned. “The men know not to sing too loud. Wouldn’t want them to disrupt anything. But when a commanding officer joins in, they know they can have at it. And I don’t have the heart to say no to all of them, when they ask to start another.”


	2. Mother's Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This one's to the tune of "Hieland Laddie", as performed by Storm Weather Shanty Choir. This one's a bit different near the end, the structure diverges, but it keeps the same lyrical pattern and chord progression, so it shouldn't be too difficult.
> 
> As always, the Spotify playlist "Literally Sea Shanties" by imightbetaylor is a fantastic resource for all the shanties you could want. Hell, we might end up covering them all.

Colt still wasn't used to the war. The Galaxy was three months in, now, and in some ways that should've felt like a lifetime. But it didn't. It felt as if the war had just started yesterday, and millions of his brothers had shipped off, nearly without warning at all. They'd left a gulf in him, as much as he'd never let anybody see it.

There was plenty for him to do, running around after the Littles and the Tinies and doing his best to learn every man's name before he shipped off. To _convince_ them that they could have names, despite what the Longnecks said. To spite what the Longnecks said, in fact. 

The Alphas had been no help, either, all of them just looking to hide away in whatever bolt-holes they knew about whenever they weren't called upon to work. They were capable, and willing to do the job, but Colt found it truly impossible to get any of them to karking sit across from him and have a conversation. Even just to discuss training regimens.

They'd got a Jedi Master, though. The Jedi clearly knew as well as Colt did that his brothers on Kamino were sitting ducks, and perhaps the highest-priority target for the Separatists to hit. At least, they were certainly the target that could take the Republic's war effort back to its infancy. And...by the Force, they'd sent a good Jedi.

General Ti was...different. Certainly different than Colt had ever felt on Kamino. There was a warmth to her, and she was willing to be _kind_ to the men and to the Littles. She held the Tinies like children, not droids under construction. Sure, she was among Colt's first Jedi, but the Knights and Padawans that had been assigned to Kamino's other cities weren't quite...Colt couldn't say. But they weren't quite like General Ti. 

The whole place had gotten a lot better since she'd shown up.

She stood next to him now, just a half-step ahead as was their custom. She'd taken him in stride, and Colt had quickly come to appreciate that General Ti was willing to listen to him in a way few others had been. The Mandalorian and the Huttese-speaking Trainers barely gave him the time, and again, the Alphas weren't good for anything except training Littles and busting droids. But General Ti seemed to hear what he had to say. That was new. 

A gunship swung into position to land in front of them. The doors opened as it settled to the pad, and Colt couldn't help but grin under his helmet as some of his brothers walked out. The newest batch of ARC troopers, sent back for advanced training after they'd proven their ability in the field.

General Ti inclined her head, as they lined up in front of her. Six men across, two men deep, plus two others that hung toward the center-back. Almost as many legions were represented in the colors on their armor, a rainbow of allegiance that stood out from the Shinies still on the planet. They'd appointed one of the men to speak for them, apparently, and he stood at perfect parade rest. 

"General!" the trooper said, an automatic crispness in his voice. "ARC Trooper Candidates, reporting for advanced instruction!"

"At ease, soldiers," said General Ti. Colt liked that. That was always the first thing she would say, when she addressed the men. "Thank you for taking the time to return from the front. I understand that you have all shown great bravery."

Colt stepped forward. "You'll be assigned priority lodging during your time here. Extra amenities, extra rations, but don't get comfortable. It's the trainers' job to see if they can break you, and it's your job to keep strong. Prove to us that you can do that, and you'll be back to your Legions within sixty rotations."

"Commander Colt will be overseeing your training, along with Alpha-19 and the Mandalorian Dar'juuk Hess. I will be receiving periodic updates on your training, and I look forward to hearing good news." General Ti stepped out of their way, and gestured to Tipoca City. "Colt will bring you to your quarters."

"Sir, yes, sir!" The men snapped to attention again, and fell into step behind Colt in seamless parade lines.

Colt turned around once they got past the door, and he was pleased to see that the men broke formation as soon as they were out of the General's sight. Helmets came off, nods were exchanged, and they massed into a group that occupied the center of the hallways and forced troopers and Longnecks alike to the sides. 

"Welcome back, gentlemen," Colt said, and he took off his own helmet. He walked in reverse to address them, as he'd become used to doing long ago. "Can I get names?"

"Court!" "Sixer" "Hydro!" "Gann!" "Jet!" "Lorne!" "Bandit!" "Zed!" "Echo!" "Fives!" "Tanner!" "Pins!" "Skewy!" "Wall!"

"It's a pleasure," said Colt. "We'll be getting to know each other well, over the next few weeks."

They moved into the upper levels of the building, until finally Colt swiped his access card and brought them into their dormitory. It was all double-bedrooms, arranged around a communal kitchen and some couches. Their bags and kits had already arrived. The men took to it instantly, and a few small conversations broke out as they got their things. 

One of the men, with armor painted blue for the 501st, came over to him. "Sir!" the trooper said, and Colt could see in the way he held his face that he was one of the regulations-first kind of clone. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Your name, again?"

"Echo, sir!"

"Please. And while you're here, I'm Colt."

"Yes, sir!"

Colt rolled his eyes, and chuckled at him. "Echo. I see why they call you that. Relax, and tell me what you need."

Echo tried and let his shoulders loosen up, but didn't seem to like how it felt, judging by how quickly he went back to the formal stance. "I had some questions about equipment and training readiness, sir!"

"Oh, don't worry about that yet," said Colt. "You've got time to unpack. Trainers will come for you in an hour." 

Echo nodded, but didn't walk away. Colt looked around at the other men, pulling out ration packs and folding out their clothing. One even had a Corellian mandolin, which Colt wasn't entirely sure was regulation, but these were ARCs and it wouldn't much matter.

"Look," Colt said finally, turning back to Echo. "Let yourself get settled in, at least for a few minutes. See if one of your brothers will play you something on that mandolin."

One of the other clones perked up--Skewy, Colt thought, if he was remembering right. Skewy was far more at-ease, and Colt appreciated it. 

"Echo!" Skewy said. "I can play a bit, would that help?"

Echo was thoroughly red, now. "I'm fine! We're here for training, to be ARC troopers, I'd like to keep regulation-"

Colt rubbed his temples. He couldn't help but smile. "ARC training isn't about regulation. It's about learning to live outside regulations, and find your own way forward. And that'll be a lot easier once you just loosen up."

Skewy caught Colt's attention, probably to help Echo feel as if so many eyes weren't on him anymore. "We've been doing nothing but singing these past few days, while we were doing the quarantines to come back to Kamino. Wasn't much but holo-dramas, so we made a few things up."

"Is that right?" said Colt. 

Skewy picked up the Corellian mandolin. "I got this a week in, from some civilians. Play it as often as I can, especially recently. Getting pretty good with it."

"And all the boys wanted to sing?"

"I know it doesn't sound like how things are on Kamino," Skewy said. "But all the Legions have at least a song or two, by now. The Generals don't know."

Colt chuckled softly, at that.

"We actually made one up on the way here," Skewy said. "About General Ti."

Now it was Colt's turn to redden. "Do I want to hear it, or make sure I don't?"

"No! No, brother, it's not like that." Skewy swept his hand over the strings. "We've all heard stories from the newer Shinies. They all talk about how General Ti's the best thing to happen to Kamino since the Longnecks learned to breathe air. We all got to talking, and somehow we made a song out of it."

Now Colt had to ask, there was no other choice. He did, with only a bit of apprehension. "Play it."

Skewy cast his head around. "Huh. I suppose we could, if you like." Colt nodded to him, and Skewy took the lead. "Boys!" he said, casting his arms out. "Commander Colt was just telling me he's never heard a good star shanty!"

Some of the men whooped and gathered around. Echo flushed an even brighter red.

"What do you think?" Skewy continued. "Let's do Mother's Song, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

They all waited for Skewy to sit, and then they spread out along the walls. Colt's lips quirked upward. Each of them leaned on their elbow, with their fists cocked and ready next to the hard Kamino duraplast. 

Skewy stomped twice, and he started to play. He was good, his fingers plucking through a jaunty tune. The others, on cue, beat their fists against the walls in time.

Skewy lifted his head. "Oh, have you felt Umbara in the cold?"

All the men responded, in the deeper throat-whisper most clones only used to avoid trouble. " _In a place no Natborn goes"_

"Have you felt the Force around your throat"

_"Fighting off a Natborn foe"_

The men were smiling around at each other now, and Skewy let the notes wander a bit, before he focused them back.

"Do you know the song Christophsis makes"

_"Crystal in-between the wind"_

"Do you know the strength a Clone War takes"

_"Brothers scattered in the wind"_

Echo was getting into it now, too. They all were. Colt tapped his foot, genuinely impressed. The boys on Kamino never got up to anything like this--or at least, they knew too well how to hide it. The ARC candidates shared the melody like they'd all known each other for years. Skewy was taking the lead, playing it up for everybody with big expressions and quick turns of his head. He always sung the first line, and the third, by himself, putting on something that sounded like an odd facsimile of a Mandalorian accent.

"Would you die to taste a Natborn’s food"

_"We all know the ration-ache"_

"Would you ask to die beside your crew"

_"We all know it’s all our fates"_

The men burst in together.

_"We live in a land not built for Clones"_

_"Only one has ever loved us so"_

_"We fight in a war and fight alone"_

_"Only one has ever loved us so"_

Colt cocked his head and listened more closely. The men faded back, and Skewy lead them again.

"Have you seen the fear of the occupied"

_"Not our planet, not our planet"_

"Do you know how it feels to know they’ll die"

_"Not our plan, not our plan"_

Everyone sang together again, and now they banged hard on the walls. Some stomped their feet. One of them--Fives, Colt thought, judging by how they wore the same blue--tried to drag Echo out into the middle and dance with him. Echo just went red again and hid his face in his hands, but Fives, grinning broadly, danced in a circle around him instead.

_"We care for a brother like we care for ourself"_

_"Only one has ever loved us so"_

_"We know it’s us and no one else"_

_"Only one has ever loved us so"_

Colt beckoned Echo over, as the younger man managed to extricate himself. "You're fine, Echo," Colt murmured. "Nobody's getting penalized over a good song."

Skewy called the verse again.

"Did you ever know your General well"

_"Really know them, truly know them"_

"Do you think they’d notice if you fell"

_"Really notice, truly notice"_

Colt shifted a bit. That one made him think.

"And have you met young Jetii"

_"Seen the way they’re scared like Shinies"_

"Have you seen them build up their disguise"

_"Seen the way they’re forged to Kyber"_

_"The Jetii know the war like us"_

_"Only one has ever loved us so"_

_"Their sabers light the sky for us"_

_"Only one has ever loved us so"_

Skewy played them back into the verse, and he took a detour with the notes. He looked over to Colt. "This is the bit about the General," he said, straining not to lose focus. "We took some liberties here, since we don't know her, but the Shinies don't shut up about her. Figured it was worth a shot."

"Do you remember crying, when you were Cadets"

_"Who watched over Kamino?"_

"When we lost ourselves, who knew us best?"

_"Who watched over Kamino?"_

_"The only mother we’ve ever known"_

_"Only one has ever loved us so"_

_"Hard to find a mother if you’re a clone"_

_"Only one has ever loved us so"_

All the men were looking at Colt now, to watch his reaction.

"Who was Mother, on Kamino"

_"General Shaak Ti, General Shaak Ti"_

"Who is Mother, wherever we’ll go"

_"General Shaak Ti, General Shaak Ti"_

Colt was grinning now, ear to ear. There was no sense obscuring it. The boys had hit on something real, something he hadn't quite had the words for. That's what General Ti felt like.

They were clearly coming to the final chorus, from the way they took the center of the room. Some stomped in time, and others gave up, just finding their own awkward, jerky little dances like men who'd never been shown how to dance for their own sake. They were clearly enjoying it anyhow.

_"We’d die for any Jetii we know"_

_"Only one has ever loved us so"_

_"But for Master Ti, to hell we’d go"_

_"Only one has ever loved us so"_

_"The one who saved us on Kamino"_

_"Only one has ever loved us so"_

_"More times than she could ever know"_

_"Only one has ever loved us so"_

Skewy took a look around at them all, and the boys huddled in around him, stamping hard to finish the song. Skewy cried out first.

"Only one has ever loved us so!"

_"Only one has ever loved us so"_

_"Only one has ever loved us so!"_

_"Hup!"_

The boys couldn't help but smile, as they came down, but they quickly started looking over at Colt again as self-awareness began to creep back in. 

Colt, for his part, applauded, and he nodded back at them and tried to give what reassurance he could to those who seemed to need it. Echo, mostly. 

"Beautiful work, gentlemen, beautiful work." He stopped clapping, and fixed them all with soft eyes. "That was well done. Truly. Good playing, Skewy."

Skewy nodded. "Thank you, sir!"

"However," Colt said, and the men immediately seemed a bit more nervous. He waited for them to say something.

"However? Sir?" Echo finally said, when nobody else spoke up.

"I'll be putting one rule in place, during your training, in addition to the others you'll learn about. It's very important, please listen closely."

All the men leaned in."

"You will _NOT_ sing that song outside of these quarters. Am I clear?"

"What's wrong, sir?" said Skewy, visibly hurt.

Colt shook his head. "It's great work, boys. Honest, it is. But here's the problem. We have got forty _million_ Littles on this planet, twelve million Shinies, and even worse, ninety million Tinies and pre-Tinies in the tanks. And General Ti has got _more_ than enough on her plate, without the entire planet of Kamino--hell, without the entire Grand Army of the Republic--serenading her and making fools out of themselves. So, not around her, not around anyone else, and certainly not around any other Jedi. You're all here for ARC training. Not reconditioning."

The men looked around at each other, sharing considered nods and looks of grave responsibility.

"But...you liked it?" said Skewy, after a long moment. "Sir?"

Colt smiled. "Put it this way. We've still got fifty minutes before your training starts, and I've got a song to learn. Take it from the top."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! If you've got a specific shanty you'd like a cover for, hit me up in comments.


	3. Steady Course to the Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based on the sea shanty "Song of the Vikings", by Perły i Łotry. Whereas typical sea shanties are often thought of from an Anglicized perspective, hailing either from Northern Atlantic or Caribbean areas with a strong English-speaker influence, this one is particularly fun to work with due to its Scandanavian origins. I hope you enjoy the adaptation.
> 
> As always, the place I recommend to check out shanties is the Spotify playlist "Literally Sea Shanties", by user imightbetaylor. Hit me up in comments if you can't access Spotify, and I'll do my best to post a list of the songs. If you've got ones you'd like to see me cover, reach out!

Fox was absolutely certain that this was the Chancellor's idea of a joke.

Life on Kamino had been a crucible for Fox and all the Commanders. They'd had the best training, passed through the toughest trials, and built the strongest minds and bodies in the Grand Army of the Republic. Fox and his brothers were among the best soldiers the Galaxy had ever produced, on par with Mandalorians and Wookiees, and trusted with the lives of thousands of their _vod'e_. He, himself, was entrusted with the seat of civilization across the Galaxy, and the protection of both the esteemed Galactic Senate and the ancient Jedi Order.

And yet, here he was--onboard a diplomatic shuttle bound for friendly Lothal, with exactly six Shinies under his command, all of them too new off Kamino to even have earned the right to paint their armor red. And two pilots, of course. Natborns.

Under the command of General Jocasta Nu.

Kark, the old crone shouldn't _be_ a General in the first place. She shouldn't even be a Jedi, if the rumors General Vos had shared were true--the ones about Nu and Dooku back in the day. And now, instead of rapping the knuckles of Jedi Tinies in their library, she'd gotten access to a detail with Fox for an archaeological mission.

It was an _archaeological_ mission. Brothers were dying across the Galaxy and Fox was out on an archaeological mission. General Nu might find some unexplainable joy in brushing off an old jar with a sonic blower, but Fox wasn't made for that, and he was pretty sure that whatever the General was after wouldn't get Grievous scrapped any quicker.

Fox shook his head and focused, peering out the window as the ship dropped out of Hyperspace.

"One final jump and we'll be there, Commander," said the copilot. "Not more than two hours standard."

Fox nodded, and he tapped his fingers twice on her seat's headrest. "Thank you."

He stepped out from the cockpit and nodded to the Shiny standing guard there--against what, even Fox had no idea. "Soldier."

"Yes, sir!"

"Do you know where the General is?"

"Conference room, sir!"

Fox nodded and left him to his post.

The newer Republic diplomat ships were simple--the cockpit led to a stairway up, and a stairway down. The lower deck held bunks for twelve troopers, plus three larger suites, an engine room, and a mechanical room. The upper level was for comms, a small mess, and the conference room. 

Fox went up. He didn't see anyone, save the younger Jedi archaeologist who'd come with them. Fox spotted her in the mess, just the back of her head crested with horns. She seemed...fine.

He found the door to the conference room open. General Nu sat ramrod-straight, etching notes on a physical pad as she flipped through a dusty old book before her. She didn't appear to notice him.

The ship quaked just a bit, as they accelerated past lightspeed again.

Fox lifted his hand to knock, but the General spoke before he could, in the typical more-omniscient-than-thou Jedi way. "Enter."

He stepped in, and saluted quickly. Usually, he wouldn't have been quite so crisp about it, but Vos had told him plenty of horror stories about what this particular Jedi was like when she didn't find things to her taste. Vos said it was the same haughtiness Dooku had always had, and Fox wanted no piece of that.

"Yes, General. We're on our final jump to Lothal. Pilots say it'll be two hours standard."

General Nu nodded, and looked down again. Fox held his posture, as protocol dictated. 

After a moment, the General returned her attention to him. "Is there something else?"

"I haven't yet been dismissed, sir."

General Nu cocked her head. "I suppose not." She leafed through a few pages of her book. "I don't suppose you'd sit down?"

Fox hesitated. "Yes, sir." He pulled out a chair and sat uncomfortably straight, trying to mirror the General's own posture. 

"We are in a Hyperspace tunnel, yes? Do you anticipate any reason for your men to continue standing watch?"

"No, General," Fox said, after a moment to make it seem as if he were carefully considering the General's insight. 

"Summon them here."

"Right away." Fox activated his bracers-comm. "All troopers to the conference room."

The General didn't say anything else until the men had arrived, just gesturing each one toward an empty seat when they poked their heads in. Finally, she called out sharply for the other Jedi, whose name, Fox learned, was Zira'a. She took a seat as well.

General Nu turned to Fox. "I hoped that you could assist me with something, Commander. You and your men."

"Yes, General."

The General inclined her head, and tugged on one of her kimono-sleeves. Fox looked at it, and tried not to think too loudly about how awful a color he felt it was. According to the other CCs, Jedi could hear thoughts if you shouted them.

"I am the Chief Archivist of the Jedi Order," said General Nu. "As such, I am always dividing my attention between several projects. The dig at Lothal's ancient Temple is one, and this is another."

She lifted the book off the table, and dropped it suddenly, with a thud that told them all how heavy it was. Dust billowed from it, and Fox wondered whether that wasn't supposed to be bad for the pages.

"This book tells the story of the Tyrgian Wars, which took place on the planet Tyrg several millennia ago. Are you familiar with this?"

One by one, the clones around the room admitted defeat and shook their heads no. So did Fox.

"This conflict is interesting for any number of reasons," said General Nu. "But the one that most pertains to us is that the Tyrgian Wars were the first recorded instance of an army made entirely of clones."

Something stirred in Fox. That, he had to admit, was at least a bit interesting.

"If I may, General," said Fox. "I've never heard of Tyrg."

"One of the casualties of the Great Sith Scourge, carried out by Darth Claedes in that sector of the Outer Rim. Before the Scourge, the planet was a hub for technology and design, inhabited by the Tyrgian race alone. The species was possessed of an especially low birth rate, and a lifespan only perhaps double that of a normal human. Even with a comprehensive breeding program in place across the planet, Tyrgians could only produce one new young for every elder that died."

"So they couldn't fight!" one of the Shinies burst out, and then visibly shrank as he realized what he'd done.

General Nu turned her head to the trooper, but she seemed...pleased, almost. "Yes, you are correct. An incisive point." She paused. "Gentlemen, would you remove your helmets? I find them so tiresome when not in battle."

Within six seconds, every helmet was stored neatly under a chair. Fox counted.

"The Tyrgians couldn't risk battle," General Nu continued. "But so often, disagreement on the world rose to the level that words would not be enough for a resolution. A policy to encourage individual dueling was put in place, but eventually, even that became too much."

"How many were left? General?" said the same Shiny.

"Oh, a hundred-thousand. There hadn't been many more than that, to begin with. Eventually, though, the people of Tyrg came to understand that they could wage war through copies of themselves--clones. And as such, the planet pioneered cloning technology for the very first time."

Fox raised his hand, and spoke when he was acknowledged. "So, the first time beings were cloned, they were used for war."

"That we know of, yes. Every adult Tyrg was allowed ten copies of themselves, which were treated as less than Tyrgian. Kept in rags, expected to do nothing but train for war, living without wage or a home of their own. And then those clones were used to fight for natural resources and intellectual property, until the Tyrgians had destroyed and sacrificed so much of both that the cloning facilities couldn't be maintained. The planet descended into a brief anarchy, and the few naturally born Tyrgians who survived that were left with the spoils. There was no use left for the clones, and they were left with free rein over most of the planet while the few thousand Tyrgians that survived consolidated into a single city. Less than a decade later, Darth Claedes wiped out all who remained."

The clones around the table were gravely silent for a moment. Fox understood. There was something foreboding there, and clearly the General knew it too.

Fox cleared his throat. "General, you said you wanted our help with something?"

General Nu hesitated for a second, and then nodded as she remembered. "Yes, yes. Can clones of Jango Fett sing?"

Fox furrowed his brow. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"Can you sing? Surely, a clone must have tried to find out, by now."

One of the Shinies shifted in his seat. "My batchmates and I used to sing all the time, General. And a little bit, since I've been deployed. Here and there."

"Excellent." General Nu lifted the book, and showed it to all of them in a way that confirmed she was, indeed, an experienced librarian. "I'm on a section of this volume that portrays the lives of the Tyrg clones, and I've come to a page that details a song they would sing. It comes with instructions. I've taken the liberty of transcribing the lyrics." She handed them all out notes. "As I see it, one person is supposed to sing first, and then more and more join in." General Nu stood up. "You three," she said, pointing to Fox and two of the Shinies. "Come in on the second verse. Everybody else, on the third."

The clones looked around, uncertain. 

"I do apologize for the surprise," General Nu said, almost as an afterthought. "Such songs were not meant to be read. They exist to be heard."

General Nu cleared her throat.

_My brothers told me_

_Someday we will find_

  
Fox pursed his lips, pleasantly surprised by the strength of the old Jedi's voice. It wobbled just a bit, rasped just enough to hear, but she clearly had practice. And in her day, Fox mused, she might've been quite good.

_Starships from the wars_

_Set our own new course_

_Live among the stars_

_Helpless souls we'll save_

_Steady course to the haven_

_Birth men from cloned men_

Fox's attention snared for a moment on that line. But then it was his job to come in, and he and the Shinies filled out tones well beneath General Nu's own.

_My brothers told me_

They sounded good.

_Someday we will find_

Quite good.

_Starships from the wars_

_Set our own new course_

One of the Shinies was getting into it now.

_Live among the stars_

_Helpless souls, we'll save_

_Steady course to the haven_

_Birth men of cloned men_

_Birth men of cloned men_

General Nu signaled to the others. The other Jedi's voice came in above them all, high and clear, and one of the Shinies took it upon himself to force his voice into a heavy bass.

_My brothers told me_

_Someday we will find_

_Starships from the wars_

_Set our own new course_

Some of the Shinies were standing now, belting it out. General Nu didn't stop them. In fact, her eyes were closed, hands outstretched, and Fox realized she was letting her voice carry her into it, too.

_Live among the stars_

_Helpless souls, we'll save_

_Steady course to the haven_

_Birth men of cloned men_

_Birth men of cloned men_

The General shouted out, above them all. "Once more!"

_My brothers told me_

_Someday we will find_

_Starships from the wars_

_Set our own new course_

_Live among the stars_

_Helpless souls, we'll save_

_Steady course to the haven_

_Birth men of cloned men_

_Birth men of cloned men_

General Nu waved her hands to either side, and a soft breeze swept against all their faces. They waited for the echo to clear.

And then the Shinies and the younger Jedi were all grinning, clapping, complimenting each other.

Fox chuckled, and applauded along. 

General Nu was looking at him. "Commander Fox," she said. "What did you think of that song?"

"I thought the boys did great work. And you, Masters Jedi," he said. "General, I do have a question."

"What's that?"

"The last line. Birth men, of cloned men. What does that mean?"

General Nu smiled softly. "The final part of the story, before Darth Claedes came. When the natural-born Tyrgians disappeared into their walled city, the clones scavenged abandoned starships. Many of them cast out through the galaxy, always with two goals. They would save those who were in similar, desperate circumstances to their own, and they would ask for anybody willing to return to Tyrg. Not only Tyrgians, but all people, across species and planets. They began colonies of their own, with species who could interbreed, and began to rebuild civiliation."

Fox nodded, understanding. "And then the Sith came. Ripped it away."

Her smile thinned. "That's what the Sith do," she said, and she looked down at her sleeves. Something about her air of propriety seemed to drop away for a moment. "They corrupt, and they destroy, wherever they go. I look through this volume," she said, lifting the book, "In hopes that perhaps I can stop the Sith from corrupting you. Although Dooku will try, in this war. We cannot let him do that."

Fox considered it, and a bit of respect for the General began to form in him, despite everything that Vos had said. "Yes, sir. We appreciate that, a great deal."

General Nu inclined her head to them. "It is the least the Jedi can do." She lifted both hands. "Now, go. Prepare to land. We will be on Lothal for some time, and I will have plenty for each of you to do."

Fox stifled his groan better than the Shinies. At the same time, though, he couldn't help but admit that following the Archivist into whatever dusty old temple she needed to visit...well, it didn't seem quite so pointless anymore.


	4. Leave Them, Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I haven't yet registered my membership in the Obi-Wan Needs a Hug Army, I thought this might do.
> 
> Our shanty today is Leave Her Johnny! This one's a classic, you really can't go wrong with any of the versions but personally I enjoy either the Stan Rogers, or the Assassin's Creed IV version. As always, the best place to get your shanties is the Spotify playlist imightbetaylor, and if there are any obstacles to accessing that, just hit me up.

Cody hadn't known hurt.

He'd certainly thought he had, but clearly, he hadn't, because there was no way that anything he'd experienced before could compare.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master and Councillor, the Negotiator himself and a High General of the Grand Army of the Republic, was all-out _sobbing_ in front of him.

This was a different sort of hurt. 

The _Negotiator_ 's crew had gotten a hunch that General Kenobi was headed to Mandalore to save Duchess Kryze. The Jedi had alerted Cody about it, as was standard practice for all threats to Generals. It hadn't taken much convincing for Wooley to talk Cody into parking the flagship two or three uninhabited systems away and waiting for a distress call. 

Obi-Wan had sounded fine, when he'd called. Relieved that they were so close, sure, but that made sense for anybody. 

Kark it, he'd even made his report to the Council. Cody had been there and watched. He'd explained, very clearly, very thoughtfully, how this incredible woman Rex had made _very_ clear Skywalker said Kenobi had feelings for was executed by the same horned bastard that had executed Kenobi's mentor. And Cody hadn't thought twice about how well Kenobi had handled it.

Then he'd come back to the Officers' meeting room, where the lieutenants Hawkes and Carbon and Ryder had prepared their briefing on what the General had missed. Cody hadn't been ready for him to wail.

General Kenobi hadn't said a word since then. He'd oscillated between shoulder-quaking silence and choking on tears. Cody had taken the liberty of summoning two of the General's favorite soldiers, in addition to himself and the lieutenants, but now he regretted it. They all looked to him as if he could make it stop.

Cody cleared his throat. He leaned over, and slid his hand across the table toward the General, although he stopped short of touching him. "General?" he said.

General Kenobi didn't respond. But he quieted back down.

"General, if there's anything we can do."

He shook in place, and drew a long breath. When he spoke, he hardly more than whispered. "I apologize," he said. "I will collect myself in a moment-"

"No!" Cody said, and despite himself he put a hand over General Kenobi's. "You take whatever time you need. We'll be here."

"Proceed with the briefing."

The lieutenants looked at each other, confused. After a little while, Carbon tapped out some commands on his holopad. "Er...well, Second Company is still dispatched to Florrum for continued cleanup there. At last count, we've got all but two of our starfighters up and running again. That bomber that's been giving us trouble-"

It was clear that General Kenobi wasn't listening. His eyes were glossed over, and narrow, brimming with tears still. He'd pulled his lips back in an effort to stop it. He trembled, a bit.

The troopers Cody had invited did their job. Icicle, Cody remembered, and Winky. They knelt down next to the General, and put hands on his shoulders. The General's face didn't move, but he shook a little harder. Cody forced himself not to order them to stop, despite the pain the General was clearly feeling. 

It went on like that for a long while, until Cody didn't know what else was worth waiting for. He looked over to the lieutenants. "You boys can get going, if you like. I'll take care of him if you can run the ship."

Ryder shook his head. "No, sir, if it's all the same to you."

Cody nodded. He pulled out a seat and settled into it.

They were quiet for a long time, until Ryder opened his mouth again. He sang, quiet. So the General could hear, but wouldn't be overwhelmed.

_My Captain said, and my boys all say_

_Leave our brothers, leave them_

Cody knew what the man was singing, of course he did. It was the song the veterans sang for all the new Shinies, in small, private groups, when the Shinies went to battle for the first time and saw half their batchmates killed in front of them. He glared at Ryder. It wasn't the time, or the place. 

_Tomorrow, we will ship away_

_And it's time for us to leave them_

Hawkes and Carbon had looked visibly uncomfortable, when Ryder started. But now, they seemed to at least have some understanding of whatever Ryder was thinking by bringing it up. They sang with him, for the chorus.

_Leave them, brother, leave them_

_Oh, leave them, brother, leave them_

_For the war will be long, and their debts unpaid_

_And it's time for us to leave them_

The General was looking up at them, now, confused more than anything else. Cody shot his men a look, and they hummed a verse instead of singing it out loud, as Cody explained to him.

"It's a song we sing to the new boys," Cody said, softly. "For when they learn what it means, to leave brothers behind on the battlefield in our wake. To not be able to take the ones we love with us."

Ryder chimed in. "To have to make the knowledge that they died fighting...be _enough_."

Cody softened his glare a bit. The two troopers tending to the General joined in, when it was time.

_Oh, the void is cruel and these worlds aren't mine_

_Leave them, brother, leave them_

_The Sith decree, and Republic, aye,_

_That it's time for us to leave them_

_Leave them, brother, leave them_

_Oh, leave them, brother, leave them_

_For the war will be long, and their debts unpaid_

_And it's time for us to leave them_

This time, the men hummed by themselves. While Cody didn't necessarily appreciate the lack of warning, he did have some degree of gratitude for their giving him an opportunity to speak to the General. Kenobi was wiping away at his eyes, now, and listening intently. Cody couldn't tell what he was thinking, but it was clear that he knew that the men didn't intend to twist the dagger any further. Quite the opposite, and General Kenobi seemed to understand.

"Technically, it's not supposed to be a bad thing to leave clone troopers on battlefields," Cody murmured to him. "It's not outlawed. It's not frowned upon. There's plenty more of us to fight the good fight. But it never stops stinging."

General Kenobi nodded, still staring off into the distance.

"It's odd, to see our brothers die, because we also watch ourselves die. Shinies aren't used to that. They haven't seen horrific things happen to themselves yet, and they will. The best thing we can do is let them know it's something we all struggle with."

_I hate to see where my brothers fall_

_Leave them brother, leave them_

_But stay for them, and die yourself_

_Always time for us to leave them_

Finally, Cody let himself join in on the song.

_Leave them, brother, leave them_

_Oh, leave them, brother, leave them_

_For the war will be long, and their debts unpaid_

_And it's time for us to leave them_

The men set back to humming, and Cody forgot all pretense of rank for a moment. He put his arm around General Kenobi's shoulders, and it was not lost on him how the General leaned in just the slightest bit. 

"General," Cody said. "I can't imagine what it is, to be where you are. I can't imagine what it's like to lose a person like that. Or what it's like to be a Jedi on top of it all, trying to keep this sadness from showing."

The General shuddered. 

"But, for what it's worth, we can understand what it means to have your heart ripped from your chest and to have to keep a straight face. That's what the song is about, really. If it isn't helping, let me know."

General Kenobi just pressed a microscopic distance further into his arm.

 _He'll come through_ , Cody thought to himself. _Call Skywalker and Tano, and give him time. He'll come through._

Cody threw back his head, and led his men into the final verse.

_It's fair, they wrote, for a worthless soul_

_Leave them, brother, leave them_

_Remember them, in their own way_

_But it's time for us to leave them_

_Leave them, brother, leave them_

_Oh, leave them, brother, leave them_

_For the war will be long, and their debts unpaid_

_And it's time for us to leave them_


	5. Droids Down Below

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry for the delay, life has been a bit busy for your resident singing Sith Lord. Today's shanty is based off of "Ring Down Below" by Storm Weather Shanty Choir, which is just a fantastic song if you're looking to rouse spirits or batten down the hatches. As always, every shanty we use can be found on the Spotify playlist Literally Sea Shanties by imightbetaylor, and if you can't access it that way, just let me know in comments and I'll help you get a version of the right song.

Aemyn Xyst was a Jedi Knight now, a full-fledged Jedi Knight, a luminous being born of the Force and raised amidst a legacy of a million Knights before her.

And yet, it was all she could do to keep her knees from knocking together, and stop herself from clutching her unlit saber to her chest like the Ewok stuffie she'd had as a youngling.

The gunships were dropping into the Mygeeto atmosphere, all of them around the planet and no fewer than five hundred under her command. Master Mundi was trusting his Jedi support to do their jobs, to keep the droids occupied as he moved the Galactic Marines onto the primary front, and he was trusting _her_ to hold up all of Battle-Area Four. It was a tremendous honor to work under Master Mundi at all, let alone to lead her new 726th Legion for the first time since her Padawan braid had been cut, and she should've been proud of herself. She should've been trusting in herself and in the Force, like a Jedi Knight was supposed to.

At the moment, though, she didn't even feel truly like a Bothan, inside her own fur as she was. She was some amalgamation of a _fear-being_ , and whatever that was supposed to look and feel like, it was certainly how she felt and probably how she looked. 

She hoped the men didn't notice. Her Captain beside her, Merrick, didn't so much as twitch underneath his helmet and the other eleven men in her particular gunship didn't do anything either. It shouldn't have been unnerving--after all, she'd served alongside clones under her Master for years, and she'd had good friends among them. But these were all new men, and they didn't have any reason to trust that she wouldn't get them all killed. She hadn't served them her special nerf-curry soup or told them bad jokes till they shoved her, and now that she was a Knight, she really shouldn't be doing those things at all anyway. They would judge her by the quality of her command, and the seconds between her and the moment she would assume that command were very quickly disappearing. 

The lights flashed off, briefly, and then came up red. The comms crackled overhead, and the pilot's voice came in. "We'll be planetside in five. Ground intel says the landing zone will be hot."

None of the troops reacted, and neither did Aemyn. Outwardly, she tried to project calm and reassurance through her stance and through the Force. Inwardly, she took not nearly as much faith as usual from the lightsaber hanging on her hip. Her mind was playing her master's words back to her, but she was dismayed that her mind seemed to have chosen all the failures to think about, rather than the successes. 

Aemyn noticed one of the men's head turn slightly, toward the clone next to him. For most clones that might've been nothing, but these men all stood ramrod-straight, wanting to impress her as much as she did them. The trooper next to him moved a bit in response. They were speaking through their internal comms, then...technically not allowed with a General present, but she wasn't about to make a fuss over it. 

Captain Merrick turned to face her. Aemyn stared into the cool voidedness of his helmet and saw her own reflection in it. She couldn't stop herself from picturing the troops' last General, a young, enthusiastic Jedi Knight just like her who'd been cut into twelfths by General Grievous on Mimban. That probably wasn't good to dwell upon.

"General," Captain Merrick said. Even through his helmet, his voice was soft, and it had one of those slightly-askew drawls that indicated he wasn't raised on Tipoca City but one of the other Kaminoan cloning hubs. "If it's all right with you, my boys have had a bit of a ritual in the past, for before we land."

"What sort of ritual?"

Merrick hesitated. "Well, it's a song, I suppose. Not long. We can do it through our helmets if you like, or we can refrain. It won't matter much beyond superstition, but it's gone a long way to steel men's nerves before a hard battle."

Aemyn shifted back and forth. She'd heard of some Jedi Generals who wanted nothing but crispness and propriety from their troopers, and others who believed that a sober clone couldn't fight half as well as a tipsy one. She hadn't considered where she fell on that spectrum.

"That's all right," she finally said. "I'd quite like to hear, if it'll be comfortable for the men."

"As you say, General." The gunship rocked, as the first bursts of surface fire began to hit their underbelly. Merrick grasped firmly onto the overhead grip, and clicked his heels in front of his soldiers.

One of the troopers stepped forward, and whooped just as he stamped his foot onto the ground.

 _"Droids down below!"_ all the men called in unison, and Aemyn reddened just a bit. She hadn't realized how good their voices were.

The trooper in charge leaned forward, holding himself up by the overhead grip. _"Ho, come 'round, come 'round, everybody."_

_"Droids down below!"_

Another trooper let go of his grip, and he sank into a wide stance, sweeping his arms in front of him. _"Oh, we go down, we're goin' down, I tell ya"_

_"Fight's down below!"_

The first soldier raised his rifle. _"Oh, warn those droids I'm comin' down to scrap 'em"_

_"Fight's down below!"_

Now a third trooper, who Aemyn could sense being viscerally nervous through the Force, and who cast a glance toward her as he said his line. _"Oh, give in to your Dark Side, leave the goodness to a Jedi"_

Aemyn tried her best to smile at him reassuringly, but it occurred to her too late that she did still possess Bothan fangs.

_"We're free down below!"_

_"Oh, I can see it now, I can see it everybody."_ It was the first one again, and he raised his hand above his visor.

_"We're free down below!"_

Now it was Merrick's turn, and he raised his fist to the sky. _"Our brothers break their chains, for the day it takes to battle!"_

The gunship rocked back and forth with the impact of more surface fire.

_"We kill down below!"_

Another clone took over. _"Oh, we kill down there, and we meet up with our devils!"_ He said the line with such passion that his voice cracked for a moment, gesturing wildly with his free hand.

_"We kill down below!"_

_"And the Jedi, they tell me they're seers in the darkness."_ The clone who led that line had gestured to Aemyn, and the rest of the men were nodding in time, looking at her. Miraculously, Aemyn felt them thrum in the Force, with enthusiasm and trust. That made her feel something good.

_"Dark down below!"_

_"Oh, blind, so blind, when your helmet goes dark."_ Every trooper raised a hand and drew it slowly down their face.

_Dark down below!"_

Merrick picked his head up again. _"Say we're going down now, put a blaster into Sith-spawn."_ All the troopers shunted their blasters forward, as if they were hitting something with the barrel.

_"We die down below!"_

The first trooper swept his hand around toward all the men. _"Oh, steel your, steel your hearts, everybody"_

_"We die down below!"_

Yet another trooper let go of his overhand grip, and sunk down to his knees. He threw both arms out in front of him. _"Oh, say, oh brothers, will you carry back my soul"_

_"Droids down below!"_

The same trooper on the floor now beat one hand against the ground. _"See, I'm off to join the fallen and the droids are comin' with me"_

_"Droids down below!"_

Merrick clenched his fist and held it up. _"Oh, knives out, fists up, everybody_ _"_

_"The war's down below!"_

Every trooper sang together. _"And the war's not lost till the last of us are gone!"_

_"The war's down below!"_

_"Ho, come 'round, come 'round everybody!"_

_"The war's down below!"_

As one, the troopers went silent, and Aemyn was lost for the slightest of moments in the echo of their voices, as they mixed into the thunder and flak outside.

She jumped, as they sang again, all keeping time.

_"The war's down below!"_

Now she chuckled a little, nervously, and looked around at all of them for some reassurance that her little squeak of surprise hadn't lost her their respect forever.

_"The war's down below!"_

That one was even more embarrassing to be surprised by, and it wasn't lost on Aemyn that they'd got her twice now with that. She felt her face grow hot, but she waited for the next line.

The beat came, and passed, and there was none.

The men felt fired up, now, in the Force, perhaps a bit winded by the passion of the song but all the better for it. That was clear, to Aemyn, if anything was.

Merrick leaned over to her. "Thank you, General," he said. "That's it, now. No more surprise chorus."

Aemyn rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Captain."

Merrick cleared his throat. "Won't happen again. I apologize."

"I should hope that it does." In that moment, Aemyn didn't feel quite so foreign in taking charge, with news she knew would be well-received. "All the men know that one?"

"It's being sung in every gunship, General."

"Then I suppose I'll have to learn it, as well."

The pilot's voice crackled in again on the intercom. "Ten seconds to landing! Good luck out there!"

All around her, the clones' weapons clicked and whirred into ready-mode.

Now, finally, Aemyn let herself raise her blade up in front of her face. She ignited it, the soft pale blue she'd come to love, and though there was still fear in her, it had been tamed and she knew it would not interfere.

When the doors opened, Aemyn was the first one on the ground. Her saber was raised, and the men charged behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the read! A note on this one: I've been envisioning it with something of a physical component, when performed in ideal conditions by the clones, for which the closest analogue would be a Maori Haka. It's fitting, I think, given that the Jango Fett actor is Maori himself, but let me know whether you feel that idea works with this song.


	6. I Heard Maul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Managed to strike a bit of special inspiration for this little number, which is based upon "My Son John" as performed by Smokey Bastard. Speaking as one of those Banite Sith spirits who really does look down on some of my later descendants, it was rather delicious to compose. I do hope you enjoy.
> 
> As always, the best place to get your certified-fresh and organic sea shanties is through the playlist "Literally Sea Shanties" by Spotify user imightbetaylor. If you can't access the original song for any reason, just hit me up in comments and I'll make sure you get a version. I strongly recommend listening to the originals before reading the filks, not just for this chapter but for all of them.

The boys had forgiven Wolffe for a lot of things, over the years, but getting them captured by two karking horned devil-Sith was going to be a tough one to redeem himself on. Granted, they weren't all dead already and that was at least something, but with the degree to which Sinker and Boost were already teasing him about slipping up and calling the General _b_ _uir_ in a meeting, Wolffe knew he'd never hear the end of this. Granted, they mostly teased him about how he'd then spilled the General's tea onto his lap to try and distract, so perhaps if he didn't make the situation worse this time they'd show mercy. 

Luckily, neither of those karking Ewoks had been with him in the advance party, just Comet and some of the other more trustworthy veterans. They were all in one piece, as far as Wolffe could see, but without their weapons they might not have enough firepower to deal with the problem that faced them.

Two problems, actually. The GAR had been briefed when General Kenobi confirmed the survival of the Sith assassin Maul, and it was impressed onto Wolffe in particular by General Plo how very dangerous Maul was. As such, they'd also learned about his accomplice, who they knew to be very big and yellow and halfway decent with a lightsaber...but that was about it. Now, looking at the accomplice's back ahead of him, Wolffe could confirm that at least two of those three notes were accurate.

Maul was in the rear, and Wolffe wasn't entirely sure what was going on with him. His new legs were clumsily grafted on, clearly not made as proper prosthetics, and he alternated between glaring at Wolffe and his men and muttering things under his breath. Wolffe hadn't seen much from him, except a few blaster deflections and the Force blast that had stunned him and his men, but General Kenobi seemed to have complimentary things to say about Maul's fighting ability, even if it wasn't said as nicely as Kenobi usually said things.

The other Zabrak, the big one, led them to their destination, a little clearing in a dry river-bed where Maul had set up camp. The big one arranged them all in a half-circle, and forced them onto their knees with a telekinetic push. 

Wolffe grimaced, and tried to show them that that wasn't necessary. "Captive position, men," he said, and he demonstrated it, kneeling and interlacing his fingers behind his head. The men followed his lead.

The big one, however, didn't seem to like it, and before Wolffe could stop him, he'd been lifted by the throat. The Zabrak huffed steamy breath into his face, and even through the helmet Wolffe could smell the stench of something rotting between his teeth. Wolffe kicked his legs and tried to pry the Zabrak's hand off his neck, but it was no use.

"Drop him, Savage," Maul said. He sounded almost tired.

The big one--Savage, that was fitting--let him go, and he fell to his knees without protest. 

Maul paced around them, slowly. "Do you know why you are alive?" he said.

Wolffe didn't like his chances at survival if he responded, but Maul gave him the distinct feeling that it was at least the better option. "I don't," he said. "Why are we alive?"

"Because I am in need of something to regain the Jedi's attention," Maul said. "Tell me, where is your Jedi, clone commander?"

"My Jedi will be just fine," said Wolffe. "You should hope he doesn't show up."

"He can sense your fear, and your vulnerability, through the Force," Maul said. He had one of Wolffe's pistols, and he held it in his hand, turning it over curiously. "I could kill you, right now, but then your Jedi would not have incentive to follow blindly into a trap. I do not know what he will anticipate finding, when he finds you, but he will not have anticipated _us_." He gestured toward Savage, and Wolffe took a moment to register the truly massive lightsaber hanging at his hip.

Comet spoke up from across the half-circle. "There's a pretty big Republic presence on this planet," he said. "You really chose here to try and make a statement? Against thousands of our brothers?"

"The only way to attract the attention of the Jedi is through incursion of significant losses," said Maul. "Once we have collapsed this battlefront, they will have no choice but to follow us to a location of our choosing, and lead your General Kenobi straight to us."

Comet snorted. He looked around at the other clones. "Hey! You hear him? He thinks he can take Kenobi!"

One of the other troops, Razer, chimed in. "I think that one's already been decided, buddy!"

"Enough," said Maul. "I will leave some among you alive, for now, but I do not need you all."

As much as Wolffe was concerned by the blatant stupidity of his men going out of their way to annoy a karking Sith, he did see the strategy in trying to throw Maul off his plans, and the men had chosen the path for him. He cleared his throat. "Actually, I think you do."

Maul snarled, and he ignited his saber. He walked slowly to Wolffe, holding the tip of the blade an inch away from the center of his T-visor. "And what, Commander, could have possibly given you that notion?"

Wolffe kept his cool. "Well, you've had every opportunity to kill us off, and we'd have been much easier to transport with only one or two of us to worry about. I don't know the first thing about how the Force works, but I know you need us all alive to do whatever you're trying to do."

Maul took a long moment to fume, clearly at an impasse. Then he lowered his blade. "Perhaps clones are more intelligent than I have been led to believe," he said, and he glowered at Savage. The bigger Sith huffed again, and scowled at the ground. "Very well," said Maul. "Do not give me a reason to kill you more quickly than I intend."

Comet and Razer exchanged a look, and Wolffe's heart sank immediately. He knew what they were thinking, it was about that song they'd learned from the 212th on the last deployment, when they'd taken Arvantes together and just after Kenobi had returned from his last encounter with Maul. The song was stupid, it was perhaps the best way to get them killed even despite Wolffe's efforts to the contrary. But Comet and Razer had already shared a look. Kark, there was never any going back after that. 

In the moment just before Comet started singing, Wolffe was overcome with a deep regret that he hadn't been assigned to a _sane_ legion of men with a good and reasonable survival instinct. But, then, they'd been matched to him for a reason.

The two Sith had turned away, and they froze when they heard Comet's voice.

_I heard Maul was dark and strong_   
_And he killed the Master of old Obi-Wan_

Maul and Savage were staring at Comet now, and Wolffe couldn't help but snort at their faces. Maul's eyes shone bright-gold, and his lips curled into a snarl, but Savage was just standing there dumbstruck with his mouth open wide. Razer whooped, and all the clones joined in.

  
_But now he's got no legs at all_   
_When he lost his nerve, Obi took 'em off_

_Sith ain't hard after all, and the Jedi get 'em all_   
_Bring your best, Ventress, Jedi get 'em all_

Savage had clearly found his nerve, and he charged forward. He picked up Comet bodily and threw him halfway across the riverbed. The other clones winced when Comet hit the ground, but Wolffe wasn't concerned. The armor was built for more abuse than that.

"Enough!" Maul shouted, and his blade was in his hand again. "We will not be insulted by such pathetic beings as you. We are Lords, and you may beg for your life or you may be silent."

He turned and stalked away, as Comet stumbled back and rejoined the others. He gave them a quick thumbs-up, and Wolffe waited until Maul got a good enough distance away. This time, he sang it himself.

_Well, was Maul slow or was he blind_   
_When Kenobi sliced off his behind_

The clones laughed at that one, and it was crystal-clear that they had Maul's attention again. They all joined in the song.

_Oh, what misfortune has it been_   
_That he came back without his-_

Wolffe stopped short, and so did the others. One of the quieter clones, Porzy, was suspended in the air now, clawing at his throat. 

Maul hissed at them, his fingers curled. "Are you all quite finished?"

Wolffe nodded. Porzy dropped to the ground again. Wolffe slapped the dirt, and the boys finished the verse.

_Sith ain't hard after all, and the Jedi get 'em all_   
_Bring your best, Grievous, Jedi get 'em all_

Now Savage's lightsaber was in his hand. It was gargantuan, a two-ended monstrosity of a weapon, and he cocked his arm back like he meant to throw it.

Maul snarled at him and raised a hand to tell him no. 

Comet laughed. "Can't kill us, big boy! Jedi's not here yet!"

"But I can hurt you," Savage rumbled.

"Clearly not," said Wolffe. "Or you would've already!"

Maul took a long moment to consider, ignoring the obvious fury building up in Savage. He tapped his chin. "Tell me, clone. Where was this song conceived?"

"By General Kenobi's legion," Wolffe said. "The day you were confirmed alive. They've been having a field day with it."

"I will have you know that as soon as I do not need to spare the lives of petty _clones_ , I will be hunting down each one of those soldiers and putting them to death myself."

"Good luck with that," said Wolffe. "Want to hear the rest?"

Maul cocked his head. "You intend to continue repeating this game, to drive me out of my wits. Or at the very least, to buy yourself time."

"I do," said Wolffe. "And we both know there's nothing you two can do to stop it."

Neither Maul nor Savage had anything to say to that.

Wolffe chuckled. "Take it away, Porzy!"

_He must not've had a plan in mind_   
_When Maul left his two fine legs behind_

Porzy cocked his head to the others, and they joined in again.

_When Jinn died Jedi grieved that day,_   
_But Jinn didn't like Kenobi, anyway_   
_Sith ain't hard after all, and the Jedi get 'em all_   
_Bring your best, Dooku, Jedi get 'em all_

Savage had all but lost his temper, but it was clear that without Maul's permission, he would not harm the clones. Instead, he had taken to hurling rocks one-by-one at the dirt that formed the dry river's edge.

Maul was tapping his big metal claw-toe, waiting for it to be over.

Wolffe nodded to another of the men, and he took the first two lines, before they all came in for the rest.

_Now Maul's come back, the Jedi announced_   
_I wonder how he gets around_   
_For he's rid of his legs, and he's rid of his ass,_   
_But Kenobi's in a war and Maul won't last_   
_Sith ain't hard after all, and the Jedi get 'em all_   
_Bring your best, Maul, Jedi get 'em all_

Maul was pacing back and forth, and he squeezed his lightsaber hilt with one hand. Wolffe calculated that there was about one verse of patience left, before Maul lost it and set Savage on them. Savage, to his credit, seemed to have chosen to just walk away from the people making him upset, much like Wolffe told Shinies to do when they got into bunk arguments and the like.

Wolffe picked up his head to lead them into the final verse.

_Kenobi saw Maul and came out okay,_   
_And we all fight now, the Kenobi way_   
_For if you see Maul, don't shoot his legs_   
_Put your blaster right there in his face_   
_Sith ain't hard after all, and the Jedi get 'em all_   
_Bring your best, Sith Master, Jedi get 'em all_

Despite everything about the situation, the clones whooped as they finished the song. Maul, clearly dripping with anger and poorly restrained wrath, clapped his hands together softly.

"That was quite an experience," Maul hissed. "I should hope you are better in aiming your weapon than you are in composition. Otherwise, this war will be difficult for you."

"Did you like it?" said Wolffe. "Took us some time to learn it by heart, but it's catchy, don't you think?"

"It has reminded me acutely of why, exactly, I seek revenge upon Kenobi. And upon you, as well, once I kill your Jedi, who I am sure must be purely incompetent to allow such imbeciles as yourselves to lead."

Wolffe chuckled. He nodded, slowly, and for the first time he took his hands off his head. "Tell me, do you actually know who our Jedi is?"

Maul sniffed. "Jedi are all the same. And they all die the same."

"It's Plo Koon," said Wolffe. "He's on the Council. You may have heard of him."

After the emotional ordeal the clones had just put him through, Maul was either unable or unbothered to hide the concern he felt at that. "Savage," he snapped. "Come here, brother, there is a complication we must discuss."

"Oh, and by the way," Wolffe said. Maul turned back to him, as Savage came back to hear. "He's not alone, either."

"What, has he picked up a Padawan, now?"

"No, nothing like that. It's just that...well...General Shaak Ti is with him."

Comet shifted, and they all looked at him. "Hey, Commander, wasn't there a third Jedi here, too?"

"Was there?" said Wolffe. "Oh, right, right, I'm sorry. General Ki-Adi-Mundi is here to support, as well."

Maul's face contorted, and Wolffe was almost disappointed when he didn't scream or curse. "You are attempting to deceive me."

"Oh, you can check yourself, if you like. They're over there." 

Wolffe cocked his head to the left. The Sith followed his gaze, and sure enough, they could spot three blue lightsabers and a haze of dust from a hundred white-armored clones, approaching quickly from a few hundred yards down the riverbed. 

"Savage! We must go." Maul ignited his saber, but made to go the other way, as Savage ran to a two-seat speeder and pulled it around. Maul jumped atop it, and he fixed Wolffe with a final cold glare. "I will not forget this, clone," he spat. "I will not forget this!"

By the time General Plo reached them, the Sith were already long-gone. But for Wolffe, it didn't much matter. All the boys had taken off their helmets by then, and all of them were smiling.


	7. Away, Gen'ral Gallia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! So, so sorry about the delay in getting another one of these posted--the creative juices really haven't been flowing recently. But alas! We're returned now, and with an absolute banger of a star shanty for you. Today's is Santiana by The Longest Johns, who new shanty listeners may know better from their Wellerman fame. As always, I recommend the Spotify playlist "Literally Sea Shanties" by imightbetaylor, which was recently updated to include many more shanties than it already did! And if you have any trouble accessing a shanty, please don't be afraid to reach out and I'll make sure you get a way to listen.

Saesee Tiin rubbed at his vambraces, and did his best to appear emotionless as he followed behind Adi's former Clone Commander. The clones knew nothing of Jedi business, and that was clearly intended by the Council. The less a trooper knew, the less he was likely to give away by accident without realizing what he's said, and Saesee had no moral dilemma in keeping soldiers in the dark regarding issues they had no reason to know of.

This, of course, mattered a great deal, because none of the soldiers knew how dear Adi had been to him.

Saesee hadn't been Adi's master. No, he had passed her up when he had his chance, just as he had passed up every other Initiate that had ever asked for his guidance. This was one of Saesee's few regrets, and he only learned how deeply he regretted it when Adi _had_ sought him out much later. Under his tutelage, she had become one of the finest pilots in the Order, and one of the few Jedi outside the Council that Saesee considered to be a friend, let alone a confidant. That was a rarefied air only Masters Yoda, and Windu, and Koth had ever breathed. And Adi. She had inhaled it quite deeply.

Adi's 422nd Legion had suffered the indignity of not having attended her funeral, and they wore it well. But Saesee had been the one sent to check up on the Legion for a reason, so few hours after her body had been reunified with the Force. The Legion's Venator was stationed above Coruscant, and there it would remain until a suitable Jedi was found to take it over. Efforts in that area were proving to be difficult, but no matter the decision, this Legion would need to adjust not only to a new and inexperienced General, but a far less glamorous position within the Grand Army than they had previously enjoyed. 

The swirling of soldiers' emotions in the air around him suggested that perhaps bereavement time on Coruscant would be necessary, in order to allow a smooth transition later on. The grief here was thick, so much so that Saesee could almost push it into a current with his mind alone. The Commander shared that grief, clearly. 

They stepped into the turbolift to the bridge. Two Captains accompanied them; Saesee did not know their names. The Commander was Kukri, if Saesee remembered correctly.

"Commander Kukri," he said. From the way the man's helmet bobbed, Saesee assumed he had guessed correctly. "Did you know General Gallia well?"

"We served together since the beginning of the War," said Commander Kukri. "Saved each other's lives more times than I could count."

Saesee nodded. They rode together in silence the rest of the way. Saesee felt a small twinge of remorse for the images he understood would be flashing in front of the Commander's mind now. 

They stepped out onto the bridge of the Venator, Kukri and the Captains falling in at just the right spot in relation to a General. They were well-practiced. Adi would have expected nothing less.

Saesee allowed the rest of the high officers to gather with him at the front viewport. The Venator was oriented so that it pointed straight toward Coruscant, and the planet filled the windows as they circled in low orbit. Saesee sighed.

"Have you been briefed on the manner of General Gallia's death?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you know that the Sith brothers who killed her remain at large."

"Yes, sir."

"It is of paramount importance that that does not distract your Legion from the work that is to come."

Kukri, next to him, nodded emphatically. "The men are aware, General. Morale is low, but they'll keep their heads."

"Morale is low?"

"Well, yes, sir. The boys loved General Gallia like she was a batchmate. She felt like one, half the time."

"She had always spoken very highly of her Legion to me," Saesee said, and he inclined his head briefly. "It is understandable that your soldiers would have a difficult time recovering from this loss."

"Thank you, General. We know that Jedi don't necessarily experience grief the same way we do, so it's been much appreciated that the boys have some time anyway."

Saesee frowned. "How do you mean, Commander? On a Jedi's experience of grief."

Saesee felt it in the Force immediately, when the Commander all but seized up at the question. The poor man was terrified that he had done wrong.

"I do not intend to find fault in your statement," Saesee said, more gently now. The man softened in the Force just a bit. "I am curious, not displeased."

Kukri didn't respond for a moment, and so one of his Captains stepped forward. He raised his hand, and Saesee nodded for him to speak. "Well, General-"

"Your name?"

The Captain cleared his throat. "Goran," he said. "Well, you see, we thought that since Jedi don't feel that kind of closeness to one another, you most likely don't feel grief like that."

Saesee nodded again, slowly. He ran an internal debate only for a moment, before his thoughts settled and he made his decision.

"You are right," he said, and he felt acceptance from the men in the Force. "A Jedi must accept the will of the Force, even if he disagrees with it, or wishes it were different. Such is the way of our Order."

The Captain, Goran, nodded, and he stepped back. 

"Tell me, Commander," said Saesee. Kukri perked up again and looked at him. "Do you believe yourself to be ready to accept a new General?"

"Right now?"

"In a span of weeks."

"Hm." Kukri looked back at his men, and then at Saesee again. "It's hard to say, General. We can adapt and work with any circumstances, of course, but it'll be tough for the men to let go of General Gallia's memory. We clones don't do that as easily as a Jedi."

Somewhere deep inside Saesee, there was an impulse to correct them, to tell them that no, the Jedi--or at least one particular Jedi--was feeling the loss of Adi as deeply as they were. Luckily for him, that impulse was insulated by roughly a dozen layers of restraint and reason, not least among them the fact that he was indeed a Jedi Master and a Senior General. Instead, he kept his face placid, and showed nothing.

"And what have you been doing, to address the men's morale? To help them let go?"

Kukri hesitated. "We've been doing a lot of things as a Legion, to the extent that we can. Eating, sleeping. The boys do a lot of singing, recently."

Saesee tilted his head. "Singing? Is that so?"

"Ah. Yes, General, but it's really not anything. I've been meaning to get the boys back on regulation, but-"

"Has it been effective?"

Kukri considered this. "Well, I believe so, sir. We created a song as a Legion, taught it to all the men. I've heard a lot more humming of that song than I've heard crying and sniffling, so I do call it a success."

Saesee nodded. "And you all know it? All the men on the bridge?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are welcome to sing it."

"Excuse me, General?"

Saesee kept his face iron, and betrayed not the slightest hint of anything. "I can feel the grief on this ship, through the Force," he said. "I can feel it on this bridge. Among these men, here. This song helps you all?"

"Yes, sir. It's only that...ah. We don't typically sing in front of Jedi."

"You have only had the song for a few days."

"No, General, I mean any song."

Saesee considered. "Did you sing in front of General Gallia?"

"Occasionally, sir."

"Well, if she approved, then I see no reason to contradict her decision." Saesee kept his eyes fixed out the viewport, and waited. Shuffling and murmuring between the men told him that they were putting his request to action.

If he was honest with himself, Saesee was not entirely sure what his own intent was. But to see that others were feeling at least somewhat similarly to him, in this time...that would account for something. 

Behind him, a single clone voice rang out.

_Oh, Gen'ral Gallia led the way_

Behind him, all the men chimed in.

_Away, Gen'ral Gallia_

The single clone took his line again.

_The Jedi Order's best, they say_

That was damn right, Saesee thought to himself. Force, they could sing, better even than most Jedi could while augmenting their own voices. The others came in again, and this time they stayed with the rhythm. 

_A gift to boys from Kamino_

_Well!_   
_Carry on, and we raise her sword_   
_Away, Gen'ral Gallia_   
_To end this war, like she'd want, we go_   
_To kill the count of Serenno_

Saesee twinged at that last line, but he could not blame the troopers. He had thought about Dooku's role in Adi's death--indeed, in everything--as well, and the sentiment was one he understood. The men started in on the next verse, and Saesee picked up on the pattern through which their leader would take a line here and there.

_She had a big, fast ship and a deadly crew_

_Away, Gen'ral Gallia_

_Was a precious old gift of a Jedi, too_

_And she saved her boys from Kamino_

_Well!_   
_Carry on, and we raise her sword_   
_Away, Gen'ral Gallia_   
_To end this war, like she'd want, we go_   
_To kill the count of Serenno_

The bridge felt lighter, looser, in the Force. It was not lost on Saesee that he, too, was beginning to feel just a bit more calm.

_Gen'ral Gallia fought like hell_

_Away, Gen'ral Gallia_

_Kenobi took her story, and told it well_

_And broke some hearts from Kamino_

_Well!_   
_Carry on, and we raise her sword_   
_Away, Gen'ral Gallia_   
_To end this war, like she'd want, we go_   
_To kill the count of Serenno_

It was becoming difficult for Saesee to not turn and look at the men. Their voices were getting louder, and it was clear that every soldier on the bridge had now joined in the song. He sensed movement, and in the last chorus they had even added a bit of percussion, a quick boom-clap at the start. The small part of Saesee that had wanted to talk about his grief was now full-on dancing to the song, not in celebration but as a means to gain some small degree of connection--not only to himself, but to the men in the room and to the hollow part where Adi's memory was. That impulse was still well-and-tightly locked away, and Saesee did not twitch.

_'Twas in a proper pirate's bay_

_Away, Gen'ral Gallia_

_The Sith took our Jeti'i away_

_From all her boys from Kamino_

_Well!_   
_Carry on, and we raise her sword_   
_Away, Gen'ral Gallia_   
_To end this war, like she'd want, we go_   
_To kill the count of Serenno_

The room shifted through the Force, and Saesee felt sorrow well up within him even before he realized that he had siphoned it by accident off of the men. _Jedi Master_ , he reminded himself, before he tamped it down. _Jedi Master._

_Gen'ral Gallia, now we mourn_

_Away, Gen'ral Gallia_

_She passed beyond, into her Force_

_Beyond her boys from Kamino_

The men held the last note, and slowly it burned away, bouncing off the walls and windows in the bridge until it could be heard no more.

Saesee had stayed absolutely motionless for the entire course of the song, and he finally acknowledged to that small part of himself that perhaps that was not right. He felt himself regret what he did, even before he did it.

His lightsaber leapt to his hand, and it sprang to life, emerald ablaze at his side. He felt some of the men twinge with confusion and fear, but he ignored it.

Eyes still fixed out the viewport. he raised his saber in his hand, up above his head. He held it there like a torch, and closed his eyes.

In a deep, gravelly tone that he couldn't recall ever having been used for a similar purpose, he sang out the last lines again as best he could remember.

_"She passed beyond, into the Force."_

_"Beyond her boys from Kamino."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! It was fun to explore Saesee a bit here. He's a difficult one...he's one of those orthodox Jedi who I do believe led to their downfall in his own way, and in the way of Jedi orthodoxy more broadly. I wanted to get a bit of that in here. But he's always struck me as a good guy, all things considered, even if that Iktochi face is hard to love.
> 
> Also, I'm noticing a theme coming out again and again, which is the idea of Dooku in the clones' minds. I'm not totally sure what I'm doing with it yet, but it feels right that for them, every strand and trail of the Clone War seems to lead back to him. And it seems natural that that would be a source of fairly deep-seated resentment.


	8. Thirty-Five Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all wanted Spanish Ladies, and y'all got Spanish Ladies! I will say, it was a bit difficult to get the ball rolling on this one, but in the end I'm glad I did. For this song I recommend the version by Jerry Bryant and Starboard Mess--the lyrics are a bit distinct from the original, but nothing changed too radically. As always, the best place to get your shanties is the Spotify playlist "Literally Sea Shanties" by user imightbetaylor, and if you're having a hard time finding or accessing any of the shanties, just let me know and I'd be glad to help out.

Across Sundari, the fighting had all but ended, and the last of the Shadow Mandalorians had either been put in chains or harassed away beyond planetary orbit. Maul was secure, for now, and since Ahsoka didn't seem particularly concerned with that situation, it likely didn't merit further attention. The civilians were returning to the city from the Venators. With them came slowness, and eventually, sleep.

Bo-Katan should have spent the precious few remaining hours asleep, herself. Or at the very least, she might have used them to prepare, and plan for the coming reconstruction. It was an entirely foreign notion to her, and like most foreign things, she would have done well to focus herself until she understood it. But she had written off this particular notion ever since she had heard Satine first talk about peacemaking. Bo-Katan was still the little sister, then. It stung.

Ahsoka had delivered more than Bo-Katan had dared to hope, especially without Kenobi and Skywalker present. Ahsoka had attained victory all on her own. Total victory. Mandalore would belong to the Nite Owls, in the morning, and in absence of a formal ceremony, Bo-Katan would serve as acting _Mand'alor_. She would speak with Ahsoka about the fine details regarding the Darksaber later. Right now, she could only guess where the not- _jetii_ was, and Bo-Katan couldn't win that fight on so little sleep and with so many nagging injuries anyway.

So rather than sleep, rather than plan, rather than work, Bo-Katan drank. 

The Nite Owls had set straight to work making the Sundari bars their own, dirtying the perfect glass ornamentation and pouring out anything not strong enough for a real warrior. The New Mandalorians would need re-education in that area, but her soldiers could start the process, at least, by helping to refine their tastes. The clones had joined them, those who weren't still on-duty, and helmets lay discarded all around the bar as _beskar_ and plastoid intermingled.

The clones had impressed her, not only by how quickly they had taken to jetpacks, but by their fighting spirit more broadly. It had been odd, at first, for Bo-Katan to know that she was fighting alongside thousands of copies of a man she'd always been taught was a usurper. A false _Mand'alor_. But then, she knew, there were many who would now be saying that about her. If Jango Fett had been half as good as these troopers, then he would have made a good leader...and Bo-Katan was better than most of the troopers she'd seen, so that would at least bode well for her. 

The Nite Owls were getting on with them brilliantly. She understood it. Warriors knew how to make friends with warriors.

There was a rustle at the stool beside her, and she turned. It was the clone that Maul had taken captive. Jesse. She nodded to him, and wordlessly, she invited him to sit. He accepted. It was not lost on Bo-Katan that Jesse had found his way back to all of his armor. 

They sat there in the quiet for a while, until Jesse had already received his first drink, downed it, and received a second. Then she turned to him.

"Did that hurt?" she said.

"Sorry?"

"The face tattoo."

Jesse laughed. "Yeah, it did. The guy who gave it to him was a real bastard, too. Spiky, they called him. We lost him on Umbara."

"I've never been to Umbara."

"Don't go."

"Noted." Bo-Katan swirled her drink around in the cup. "Do you ever worry you'll regret it?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, it's the Republic's symbol. What if the Republic doesn't reciprocate your love for her, after the war? What if it never did?"

"You don't think the Republic is grateful for our service?"

Bo-Katan turned to him. "Tracking down Maul, I went to a lot of worlds. Not Umbara, but...a lot of worlds. And on most of them, I found that the idea of clones was...not taken kindly, by the residents."

Jesse snorted. "No, we rarely are."

"Then why get the symbol? And on such a prominent place? If you thought they might cast you aside."

He looked as if he was about to respond, and then he stopped himself. He tilted his head, and from the expression on his face, the question he asked her wasn't the same one he had thought he would. "Lady Bo-Katan," he said, and they shared an understanding look as she bristled at the title. "Have you ever felt unrequited love for someone?"

She scoffed. "For my sister. For Pre Viszla. For Mandalore, often, it feels like that."

"Does the fact that your love for them is unrequited stop you from wanting to give everything to save them?"

Bo-Katan looked down. "No. It doesn't."

Jesse nodded. "Same idea, really. The Republic's under no obligation to love me back. If it chooses to, then all the better, in the end."

"Is there a plan? For the clones, once the war is over."

"Well, if the Kaminoans had their way, we'd all be decommissioned by way of lethal injection."

"Are the Kaminoans going to have their way?"

"Not as long as any of us still live."

Bo-Katan smiled softly. It had been a while since she had gotten to smile. "Then why bring it up?"

"Because the Kaminoans are also the only ones who have voiced any sort of plan at all."

"Ah." She frowned. "Not even the Jedi?"

"Individual Generals say whatever it is that they feel. Our General Skywalker certainly has, he's made it clear that he'd like to petition to keep the 501st as an active volunteer force under his command. I know some of the boys will go for it, and under the right circumstances, I will, too."

"And what are the right circumstances?"

"That it's allowed, and that he asks nicely," said Jesse. "It's a low bar. I'm not ready to give up my armor yet."

Bo-Katan just nodded.

"But the common sentiment among the boys is fairly similar. We've all got it in our heads that we're born to fight and we'll die fighting. Most of them used to think that active service with the GAR was the only way to do that."

"What changed?"

Jesse grimaced. "You may not like it."

Bo-Katan hesitated. "Why would I have any say in it?"

"Because the boys really like your people. They like Mandalore, and with what little they've learned of the _Resol'nare_ in the past few days, they've figured out they like that too."

She cocked her head. "I'm not sure why that's a bad thing."

"Well, there doesn't seem to be that much extra beskar, for one."

"Right. There are logistical issues. And I'm certainly not saying it's ideal, but...I can't see a reason why it would be an explicit problem."

Jesse stroked his chin. "You don't say."

"Can they pledge themselves to the _Resol'nare_? Get over their pride and study our ways, under individual Mandalorian warriors? Commit themselves to earning back their armor, bit by bit, and accepting that there may not be enough _beskar_ to go around? Can each of them commit to bringing in new foundlings, especially non-males and non-humans, to make up for the massive amount of Jango Fett iterations we'd be accepting into the ranks?"

"Honestly?" Jesse said. "I can't think of a better way to make sure they stay out of trouble."

"Then when the war is over, they're welcome on Mandalore and under the _Mand'alor_. So are you."

Jesse smiled at her, softer this time. "I'm glad you said that. It's going to make this bit a lot more bearable in the long-run."

Bo-Katan perked her head up, and she realized that the bar had begun to quiet down, except for some chanting and banging on tables coming from one of the back corners. She listened, and as the chant spread, she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

_Jesse! Jesse! Jesse!_

"What have you done, soldier?" said Bo-Katan, and she finished her drink.

"Something I'll deeply regret," Jesse said. "We've been making up and singing songs ever since we got off Kamino and into a war. Keeps morale high. The boys can't stop themselves anymore from coming up with them."

"It sounds like this is one _you_ came up with."

"No, it's not. But as the ranking officer here, it's my job to handle the solo parts."

Jesse heaved himself off the stool, and considering he'd now had four drinks through fifteen minutes of conversation, he held himself quite well. He raised a fist in the universal military stop-symbol, and his men fell silent. 

"Lady Bo-Katan," he said, and he raised his glass. "Lovely ladies, gentlemen, and other marauding beings, whoever you might be under all your _beskar_. Thank you for reminding us of what it is to fight alongside new brothers and sisters. Other than the Jedi, we don't often get to make friends, let alone have our lives saved by them."

The other clones whooped and cheered.

Jesse climbed atop a table, and hoisted his drink. Bo-Katan's lips turned upward again. The man was a Mandalorian, then, in spirit if not in creed. And, as she learned quickly, he had a beautiful voice. He sang the verse alone, mostly, although his men sang it softly at their own tables as well. His voice was the one meant to be heard.

_Farewell and adieu, ye Mandalore ladies_   
_Farewell and adieu, to ye Concord Dawn men_   
_For we've received orders, and you, Resol'nare_   
_We hope in a short time our paths cross again_

He stomped his foot once, sharply, and on his cue, the others joined in. 

_We'll fight and we'll war, like true Mando'ade_   
_You'll fight and you'll soar, and perhaps you'll teach me_   
_Until we find home in the stars along the Hydian_   
_A clone of our age still has thirty-five years_

Each clone knocked back his drink, except Jesse, who had gotten off his table and encouraged another clone to stand up. The man held his helmet under one arm as he sang the next verse.

_We finish our war, with the Jetii behind us_   
_We finish our war, for we know the end's near_   
_More than we can fathom, with uncertain ground after_   
_The same men they purchased, the Republic might fear_

The clones all came in again.

_We'll fight and we'll war, like true Mando'ade_   
_You'll fight and you'll soar, and perhaps you'll teach me_   
_Until we find home in the stars along the Hydian_   
_A clone of our age still has thirty-five years_

Now, Bo-Katan saw, her own soldiers and the clones were becoming truly at-ease with each other. The battle hadn't been over by even six hours, and already they embraced and slumped onto each other like old friends. Mandalorians sung like this, when they were able to get protracted times of relative peace and camaraderie. Unfortunately, their voices were not so uniformly nice. 

Another trooper had been chosen to perform the next verse, and he did it well. This one was blind in one eye, clearly an old injury, and he'd tattooed the scars on his head into a tightly woven mass of branching curls. Bo-Katan quite liked the boldness of the design. 

_Now, we could find a world, to make home ourselves_   
_There's room left on Wayland, or perhaps Dantooine_   
_We're welcome on Ryloth, on Shili, on Coruscant_   
_But only on Mandalore has staying felt right_

The _Mando'ade_ joined into this chorus, now, and Bo-Katan knew they were probably all swelling with pride at that last line. She wondered if she might, perhaps, be sitting within the largest group of foundlings the Mandalorians had seen in a generation--one that would get much larger, if the sentiment extended past Ahsoka's battalion.

_We'll fight and we'll war, like true Mando'ade_   
_You'll fight and you'll soar, and perhaps you'll teach me_   
_Until we find home in the stars along the Hydian_   
_A clone of our age still has thirty-five years_

The next clone stepped up for his piece. This one had his arm in a sling, a recent injury, and a burnt pockmark on his armor which suggested that he'd probably had to fight his way out of a medical bay in order to be with them all. She respected that sort of commitment, especially to get an earned drink.

_When the signal is given, for the Army to disband_   
_And nine in ten men must give their armor back_   
_Perhaps we find another, I don't feel right without it_   
_I hear that good beskar will hold and won't crack_

The clones joined in again, and now many of them were standing. Mandalorians were too. The clones had picked out--and Bo-Katan couldn't quite believe it--dance partners, and now a few pairs of the bolder or more inebriated warriors in the room did funny dances between the tables. 

_We'll fight and we'll war, like true Mando'ade_   
_You'll fight and you'll soar, and perhaps you'll teach me_   
_Until we find home in the stars along the Hydian_   
_A clone of our age still has thirty-five years_

Jesse was back on his table, and he took the last verse. He alternated gestures toward the clones, in long sweeping waves of his arms, with more pointed looks directly at Bo-Katan. She received the message.

_Now let ev'ry man say farewell for now_   
_And let ev'ry man drink down one last glass_   
_We'll leave and get finished, and once we're done in it,_   
_We'll get these same seats and we'll park down our ass_

Everyone in the bar joined in for the final verse, and for that minute, Bo-Katan let herself forget the crushing weight of Mandalore on her shoulders. She sang, too, like she had in the early days when Death Watch were sacred and all had been right.

_We'll fight and we'll war, like true Mando'ade_   
_You'll fight and you'll soar, and perhaps you'll teach me_   
_Until we find home in the stars along the Hydian_   
_A clone of our age still has thirty-five years_

Around them, the bar erupted into renewed celebration, but between Jesse and Bo-Katan, there was only the strange sense of quiet shared by those who understood futures spiraling out in every direction. 

"That was impressive," said Bo-Katan. "The lyrics seemed polished."

"They weren't," said Jesse. "They're only as old as our victory, and maybe a little younger."

Bo-Katan looked down at the floor. "I should warn you. I don't know whether Mandalore as a planet will remain viable, or unified, long enough for you all to return. I can't assure you that Sundari will be a home when the war is over."

"It will be."

"What makes you so certain?"

"Well, so long as Mandalore has you, it'll be in safe hands. The road ahead of you isn't easy, but it's clear." Jesse spoke with conviction. "And as long as any of my boys continue to receive leave time under the GAR, they'll keep on coming back here every chance they get. And, who knows...worst comes to worst, the _Mando'ade_ are scattered to the wind again. But when the war ends, we most likely will be, too. We'll be made for each other."

Bo-Katan couldn't help but agree. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say, I've got to give a great deal of credit to Bittodeath and the Deliver Us AU. I'd just gotten done reading the most recent installment before I came over here to write this. If you haven't become familiar with that series yet, get on it. It's brilliant.


	9. The Jedi Will Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING CONTENT WARNING CONTENT WARNING. Brief reference to suicidal ideation.
> 
> Not sure if there's any Dark Disciple stans in the room, but if there are, I apologize in advance for trampling the canon. 
> 
> Today's star shanty will be another of my most requested: Bones of the Ocean, by The Longest Johns. It's a wonderful song, but so, so sad, and I thought it was best to wait to post this one till I'd just posted a more happy one. If you're having a bad day coming into this...I'm so sorry.
> 
> As always, the place I recommend to get your shanties is the Spotify playlist "Literally Sea Shanties" by user imightbetaylor. If you have any trouble accessing the original song, just let me know in the comments, and I'll get you access however works best.

There were few places left that the Empire had not touched, after ten years of conquest and destruction. Every fortress had been brought to rubble long ago, and every planet that resisted had been turned to magma from orbit. The only worlds that were safe now were the ones so backwater, so far away from everything, and so quiet that the Empire simply forgot or ignored their existence. 

Pordk was one of those worlds, and of all the places Asajj Ventress had expected to end up, Pordk had not been on the list.

Nearly the entire thing was salt. Just salt on salt on salt, featureless, in every direction. Old settler groups had tried to make a life in miles-wide, dug-out depressions in the ground, under shade and with mostly recycled water brought from offworld, and those depressions were now inhabited by perhaps a thousand beings each--if that. 

Quite directly...Pordk sucked. 

Asajj had come to the planet on short notice, tracking a bounty that had since been claimed by another hunter Asajj didn't know and didn't care to know. That had been bad enough, given her difficult financial situation, but she had returned to her ship to find the fuel tanks empty and the engines dysfunctional from salt and grime. Her only savings had been used up getting it moved to the nearest settlement's hangars, and the cost of fuel so far out was something that would require more than a day or two's work.

She had taken up odd jobs in the settlement as she found them, and secured a nighttime position as a bouncer at the town's only bar. At first, she wasn't sure exactly of the need, in such a sleepy place with so few offworld visitors. But by the third night, she had learned two things: first, that a substantial minority of the dust-bowl's occupants were clone expatriates from the Wars, and second, that they drank. A lot.

As such, a majority of Asajj's duty was to prevent the clones from breaking anything--not because they fought with any bad intent, but because once they'd had a few bottles of Dantooinian beer and started roughhousing, they had a tendency to drop each other through tables. Asajj, then, was supposed to inject herself and get the offenders to go home for the night, either through charm or by force. Usually, the boys complied through charm.

Asajj...didn't mind them. That had been odd--naturally, she hadn't sought out bands of ex-Republic soldiers after the war, for a whole litany of reasons, but she also hadn't taken any pains to change her orientation toward them, either. As far as she knew, nearly all of them had suited up into the white armor and sworn allegiance to the Empire, and the ones who hadn't were simply waiting to be charged and convicted for desertion. But these clones were so far beyond the Outer Rim that the Empire's influence was still negligible, in a way Asajj rarely felt, and felt nowhere she'd have liked to stay for long. The Empire had gotten all the good worlds by now. 

She stood at the back of the bar, now that the regulars had all arrived, and ran through quick mental arithmetic. Two more weeks of work and she'd be able to afford a full tank of fuel, enough that if bad luck befell her again she would at least have enough to make it to another world after the next one. She did that now, planning ahead. It suited her. 

Across the bar before her, the clones weren't too terribly drunk yet. She glared at any of them who tried to wave and say hello, but she tolerated it, as they made jokes about how she'd thrown them out last night and would need to do it again later. She had learned a few names by now--Guthrie and Jonesie were the ring-leaders, the ones who stood on tables and chose the songs that everybody would sing next. Brick was the biggest one, who had clearly taken to lifting, by the way he tossed his brothers around when he got annoyed. Carver was the brooding one, at the back of the bar, who never spoke to anybody else, and Awl was the grizzled veteran, an ex-ARC trooper who grew his beard out long and drank more than anybody else without swaying even once. In another life, Asajj and Awl might have been friends. 

Although they were no longer soldiers, the clones clearly held true to rank, and the highest-ranked among them was a lieutenant. Ked was his name. He, unlike the others, seemed unbothered by Ventress' iciness, and had more than once struck up a conversation with her. That was a liberal word for it--he had said some things and she had tried to be polite in nodding back. But he kept coming back to talk to her each day, and today, he was doing it again.

He chose a spot next to her along the wall, not so close to be within arm's reach, but not so far that he would need to shout. He was the ones that shaved his head, and Asajj's eyes flickered up to his scalp briefly, as she did with every clone whose head was exposed. The thin, white scar was still there. It was on all of them.

"The scar," she said, before Ked had even spoken. This was the first time Asajj had even said a word to him except pleasantries, and the first time she had even come close to starting the conversation. "When did you find out about the chips?"

Ked shifted back and forth for a moment. Asajj could plainly see that it was an uncomfortable subject, but in truth, she didn't much care. The man so badly wanted to speak to her, he was welcome to leave if the question was too much. 

But the clone accepted. "About two years after the end of the War," he said. "I was part of the Seven-Fortieth, under General K'Krukh. I stumbled onto a few old intelligence briefings while I was helping out the Moff for the planet I was stationed. It was about how the General was never confirmed dead, and there were some little bits about how one or two troopers' chips malfunctioned at just the right time. I did some digging, and that was all I needed to know the Empire wasn't for me."

"They've all got the scar."

"Yeah. Every man finds out about it one way or another, and the few that desert before they learn about it...well, they get told soon enough. We're experienced enough now to know how to tell somebody without setting the things off."

"What happens when it gets set off?"

"The trooper will try to kill us as traitors to the Empire. It's beyond their control, but once it happens, there's no reversing it unless we can get the damn chips out of them."

Asajj nodded. "And that's why you're all out here. To hide from the Empire."

"Yeah," Ked said. "Same as you."

Asajj cocked her head. "Is that right?"

Ked turned to her, and looked her up and down. He huffed out air with a little smile. "Where do you keep the lightsabers, when you're out in town?"

Asajj's breath caught in her throat.

The muscles in her body tensed, as the Force screamed out to her in warning. She didn't need the warning. She had done everything--grown her hair out long, gotten work done to hide the Sith tattoos in other designs, even tried to change her voice and her accent. No clone had recognized her before, and now, she was in a room with twenty of them and no weapons. She'd done it before, but...she had put on a bit of weight since the war, quite frankly, and she hadn't had an extended twenty-on-one fistfight in quite a while. 

But Ked raised his hands out and open, and he smiled at her. "Calm down," he said. "If I'd known you would get that scared, I wouldn't have brought it up."

Asajj hissed. "What do you want?"

"Same thing I've wanted. Just a good conversation."

She didn't respond.

"Look," Ked said. "I recognized you, yeah. When you first came in. Me and Carver both knew your face. But we don't mean any harm, and none of the other boys know. It's all right."

"You know who I am, and you haven't tried to kill me."

"We all did things during the war that we regret." Ked sighed. "Sure, we watched you the first night, observed how you spoke to the boys. But if I had to guess, Palpatine hurt you just as much as he hurt us. We were all tools for him."

"You've got that right," Asajj said. 

"There you go, then. You've got nothing to fear from us, and I don't think we have anything to fear from you."

Asajj nodded, and bit back the urge to say thank-you. They both leaned back against the wall, and watched as Guthrie and Jonesie finished leading the clones in a song. There were so many songs, Asajj had learned, and all of them raucous things with rather well-thought-out lyrics. She didn't quite empathize with the urge to sing her way to battle, or to remember her battles at all anymore, but it made for easy entertainment when they did. 

"What's next? What's next?" Jonesie roared out to the others. He raised his flagon up high, and spilled a bit on himself as he swayed.

"The Maul one!"

"Let's do one for Master Ti!"

Carver, in the back, paused his conversation with Awl. "I've got one," he said. Asajj raised her eyebrows.

"That's odd," Ked said. "He never sings."

Carver called out again. "I want to do 'The Jedi will be'."

All around the bar, clones groaned and rolled their eyes. "C'mon, Carver!" yelled one of them. "That one's so sad!"

"Hey, hey, come on," Awl yelled back. "If Carver wants to do one, then we're doing one."

Guthrie and Jonesie signaled their agreement, and made ready to start.

Ked looked over at Asajj again. "Kark, now all the boys are going to start crying by the end."

"Are they that fragile?"

"They're good boys." He winked at her, and she gave him just a tiny bit of smile in return. 

Jonesie stepped up onto the table, and made it clear he'd be leading the song. "Sing along for as much as you want," he called out to everyone. "But on the choruses, I'll really need your help!" He cleared his throat, and with a bow and a flourish, he began.

_Oh, I bid farewell to my war, and my friends_   
_And I fly far away from my Empire’s men_   
_To leave behind lies, from inside of my head_   
_To learn of the way the Clone War really ends_

_And the words of the fallen are loud in my mind_   
_The words of my brothers, and of my Jedi_   
_Fear return to Kamino, and fear Palpatine_   
_In the part of my soul where I hide what I’ve seen_   
_Where the bones of my Jedi, forever, will be_

Ked leaned over to Asajj. "This one was made by deserters after the war."

She nodded back. She could tell that before he said it, of course. But the true surprise was in the change in the clones' mood. Even the most rowdy of them were quiet, now, each leaning on each other or reaching out to rest a hand over somebody else's/

_Find the truth in old archives, in codes I once knew_   
_Of what they did to clones, and what clones had to do_   
_Push past disbelief, and face our greatest truth_   
_That they made us for this, and I did it all, too_

_As the songs of the dead fill the space of my ears_   
_A temple of children, did not know to fear_   
_My heart longs to save them, undo what I’ve seen_   
_But if they stood here now, what would they think of me?_   
_In the bones of my Jedi, forever, they’ll be_

Asajj turned to Ked. "How often do you all talk about the war?"

"Hardly ever. It's easier for the boys, that way."

"You don't think it could help?"

"What's the good?"

_When at last I stand before ghostly brothers I lost_   
_I’ll beg for forgiveness, I’ll know that they watched_   
_The Jedi will recall my role in the strife_   
_I’ll tell them, I’d never choose to take their life_

_As my mind is consumed by the words of the dead_   
_And my blaster grows close to this thing in my head_   
_I'm this far from drowning, this far from the sea,_   
_I remember my comrades, do they think of me?_   
_Or a Jedi deserter, forever, I’ll be_

Asajj hated when her heart felt this way. It was happening more and more often, since she began to truly let go of the ways and rhetoric of the Sith. As far as side effects went...it was terrible. 

Jonesie and Guthrie were leaning on each other, now, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. All the clones were singing together, now.

Asajj looked over to Ked. "You think your boys can hold themselves together for a bit?"

"Yeah."

"Get me a drink. I want to listen to some war stories, if you'll listen to mine."

"Yeah."

_Now I stare into Palpatine’s grandest of plans_   
_I’m not supposed to know this, I can’t let it stand_   
_But my comrades call to serve him, and fight on_   
_I fly far past the Rim, til’ the Empire’s gone_

_As the Jedi spirits circle all ‘round my mind_   
_As I live every year I stole out of their lives_   
_I’ll remember the War, I’ll still mourn what I’ve seen_   
_I remember the fallen and they think of me_   
_In my bones, still my heroes, the Jedi will be_

_I remember the fallen and they think of me,_   
_In my bones, still my heroes, the Jedi will be_


End file.
